AllFreeNovel
Share Us
And a very mysterious, ancient old book.
“You know, if I wasn’t battling intense jet lag and the fact that I am going on twenty-four hours without sleep, this would be my ideal evening.” Fern looked around at her surroundings and grunted.
“Fuck that fucking fucker for giving me this now,” she cursed under her breath one more time for prudence. She took a sip of the warm tea and placed it on the counter, running her fingers over the uneven pages of the book.
A small ripple of magic traveled up her fingertips like an electric shock. It didn’t hurt, but it thrummed across Fern’s skin, and she gasped. She had been lucky enough in life to encounter and handle a few magical objects, and she knew what they felt like.
She had never experienced this before. The book’s magic seemed almost sentient. An icy chill went down her spine, and Fern was suddenly nervous that the volume might have a mind of its own.
Don’t be stupid. Fern backtracked. I don’t know Calum at all, and I definitely don’t understand him, but I know he wouldn’t give me anything that would hurt me.
That knowledge settled into her bones. The book’s magic responded too, like it was reading her thoughts. The book opened of its own accord, the pages flipping back and forth in Fern’s lap.
Fern let out a small squeak but didn’t move, watching as the tome’s pages fluttered. The book remained opened to a page near the beginning and stopped moving, its magical low hum returning. Fern realized the pages were now glowing, as if they were self-illuminating so she could read in the dark.
God, I fucking love magic.
Fern’s stomach turned as her nerves escalated. She read.
* * *
13 April 1746
Drummossie Moor
Personal Accountant of HRH, High Prince of the Seelie Fae
I arrived on the battlefield shortly after dawn, to bright, but cold weather. We’ve set up camp on the hills surrounding the moor. After council, I’ve decided to only bring half of our troops. The other half remain in Faerie, should the Unseelie decide to slip through the portal at Inverness and attack. Ever since Cora, my darling sister, was married to Eòin, the Unseelie king, I knew it wouldn’t bring us the peace it promised. However, I never imagined it would turn out like this… Her death was no accident, and I won’t rest until I see Eòin’s blood.
Eòin has supplied the human British troops with supplies for an attack against Scotland and her magic. Our powers here differ from theirs, so tightly connected to the land. It has come to bloodshed.
* * *
14 April 1746
Drummossie Moor / Personal Accountant of HRH
Gweyir has begged us for diplomacy. She is the most respected of the Highland Seers and a talented Pictish witch, but we are too far past peace talks. Eòin has supplied even more support to the British, who march on the Jacobites. He has declared war against Scotland’s magic and non-magical residents.
I will decorate my armor with the torn remnants of his standard. I will paint my sword with his blood.
* * *
15 April 1746 / Drummossie Moor / HRH
Our magic has been bound. Gweyir tied Scotland’s magic to herself to defend us, but she has doomed us all. We have sent scouts in every direction to see if there is a magic user unaffected. I cannot stand it; it has cut me off from a part of myself. The portals are closed. We are alone…
* * *
Fern blinked back tears. It was a journal. She thumbed through the firsthand account of the Battle of Culloden, written in the High Prince’s own hand. She couldn’t even fathom that these pages were almost three-hundred years old. The magic and pain rolled off the paper in waves of anguish.
Fern dropped the book. She reached for her mug and took a long sip, cringing when the tea had already cooled off considerably.
“How could this have happened?” Fern mused to herself, biting her thumbnail.
Her heart went out to the prince, who was trying to keep his throne and get justice for his sister. She shivered when she read his declarations of war and his ignorance to Gweyir’s warnings. She could see where he was coming from. If the Seelie and Unseelie courts were truly siblings, how Emmett had described, then having such a strong familial tie between them would benefit everyone.
Everyone knew what happened next, but she couldn’t look away. The entries were already becoming shorter, each one a little more shorthand than the last. The book’s magic was no longer alive. It was muted.
